


Perfect Score

by London9Calling



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, CSAT, Chef Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Idol Park Chanyeol, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smut, Time Skips, side seho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London9Calling/pseuds/London9Calling
Summary: Sometimes you really do meet the right people at the wrong time or the AU where Kyungsoo gets a perfect score on his CSAT and wins a dinner date with idol Park Chanyeol – except he has no idea who Park Chanyeol even is. Several years and several subsequent run-ins later, they might finally get their timing right.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 51
Kudos: 456





	Perfect Score

**November 2011**

Point zero three percent. Those were the odds of getting a perfect score on the College Scholastic Aptitude Test. Do Kyungsoo knew the odds well, he had heard his best friend’s mother rattle it off nearly every day for four years as a warning to her son - he better be at the top or else.

Kyungsoo knew his best friend would never be in those zero three percent of test-takers. Byun Baekhyun loathed studying, much like Kyungsoo. Unlike Kyungsoo, however, he didn't absorb everything during class and ace his tests. And much to Baekhyun's chagrin, having an unusually long memory wasn't something Kyungsoo was proud of. Sure it gave him things like high test scores but it also gave him the ability to remember in minute detail every time he had ever embarrassed himself. Ever. 

“I hate you,” Baekhyun teased once the test results were released with Kyungsoo’s name sitting at the very top of the list. “Mom's been asking why I can't be like you since the scores came out.”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “Why can’t you?” he teased back.

“Because I don’t have your freakish academic memory. I use my brain for more important things, like remembering Mortal Kombat 2 fatalities.”

“Understandable.”

Kyungsoo wasn’t exactly proud of his score, not like he reasonably should be. He wasn’t looking forward to college. If he had it his way, he would skip it altogether and go to work at his father’s restaurant - hell, it would end up his job in the end anyway. But his parents insisted he get a degree and he was never one to really argue with his parents at least not the point of open rebellion. So now he had the top pick of colleges, all so he could work in the same kitchen he could work in even if he went to the least prestigious school in the country.

It seemed like a colossal waste of time and resources. And he hated wasting time and resources. And energy. Especially energy, because that should be reserved for more useful things, like not studying.

Park Chanyeol didn’t like to brag.

Okay, fine, that was a total lie. Chanyeol loved to brag, but that is because he had things to brag about (in his not-humble opinion). Lots of things. He was tall, handsome, had a great body, a stellar wit, he was smart and outgoing and wrote beautiful songs with deep lyrics and--

“You’re smiling at yourself again. It’s creepy,” Sehun drawled from the doorway of the bathroom.

“Was not,” Chanyeol mumbled, looking away from the mirror and reaching for his comb. “I was just looking for pimples.”

“You have a huge one on your back.”

“What? Where?” Chanyeol tried to see, straining to glimpse over his shoulder.

Sehun’s laughter told him it was a joke.

“Can I borrow your laptop while you’re at your thing?” Of course, Sehun had come asking for something.

“Why?”

“Games.”

“Okay, but don’t poke around. I don’t like it.” Chanyeol warned. Oh Sehun, also known as the youngest member of XOXO, Korea’s dominant boy group and media darlings, had a habit of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Like in the folder where Junmyeon, the group’s leader, saved his airport photos, or the drawer in Chanyeol’s room where he was hoarding confetti for some unknown reason (“It’s pretty, don’t judge me”).

“So, who’s the girl who won?” Sehun asked. He took the opportunity to look in the mirror and mess with his cotton candy-colored hair, brushing a few stray strands away from his face.

Chanyeol shrugged. He had already forgotten her name, not that he had ever heard it more than once. His manager had informed him of the time and day and maybe even showed him a picture of the winner, he honestly couldn’t remember. XOXO had been busy preparing for their comeback, with extended hours spent in the practice room perfecting their dance. He could barely remember his own name at this point.

“Have _funnnnn_ ,” Sehun threw over his shoulder as he stalked off towards Chanyeol’s room, ready to claim his PC.

Every year since he debuted, three years and counting, he made the same offer - he would have dinner with one person who had a perfect score on the College Aptitude test. It was his way of supporting the fans and emphasizing the importance of education.

Not that he had an education– no, he had dropped out in his first year of high school to debut as an idol. But still, he knew that it was necessary, and he also knew that his fans could be a bit…rabid at times. If he could refocus their energy on their future, then he would.

For the past three years, there had never been a fan who contacted their agency with a perfect score. Not one. Not until this year. So now it was time for Chanyeol to fulfill his part of the deal and treat his adoring (and very intelligent) fan to dinner.

“I hope she isn’t handsy,” he muttered under his breath, taking one last look in the mirror. He had several versions of how this could play out in his head, and he wasn’t sure he liked most of them.

“It will be fine. Enjoy your free dinner.” Those were Baekhyun’s last words as he surreptitiously shoved Kyungsoo from the taxi. Not _have fun,_ or I _’m sorry I signed you up for something and didn’t tell you until we were literally in front of the restaurant_.

Kyungsoo frowned, watching the taxi pull back out into the brutal rush hour traffic. Baekhyun had asked him to go shopping, which he usually would have turned down, except it involved a stop at his favorite Manga café. Apparently, it was all a ruse because Byun Baekhyun was now god knows where and Kyungsoo was stuck standing in front of a seafood restaurant, the streetlights beginning to flicker on around him. The most he had gathered from Baekhyun’s ramble was that he had entered Kyungsoo in some kind of contest for getting a perfect score on his college entrance exam, and the prize was some type of free meal.

“Sounds like a scam,” Kyungsoo mumbled, sizing up the building. There was a sign with a giant red crab painted on the front. Edison lights hung on a string by the large single-paned window. Kyungsoo couldn’t quite tell if the place was expensive but meant to look cheap, or if it was shabby. 

He debated hailing a cab but decided he might as well go inside and find out what this was all about. Plus, he was starving – he had been expecting some junk food during the now-canceled shopping trip and his stomach wasn’t happy with the unexpected cancellation. 

A host dressed in black greeted him, waiting patiently as Kyungsoo gave him his name in case a reservation had been made.

“I’m sorry sir, your name isn’t on the list.”

Trust Byun Baekhyun to play a prank without a hint of humor in it. “Ah, okay.”

The host broke into a wide smile. “In fact, no one’s is on the list. The restaurant has been rented out, especially for tonight. You must be Mr. Do, the student with the perfect score?”

Kyungsoo nodded. He was still in his school uniform, the fact he was a student was blatantly obvious.

“Right this way. We are still waiting on Park Chanyeol to arrive.”

“Who?” Kyungsoo blinked.

The host just snickered, apparently finding a joke where Kyungsoo hadn’t made one. “I will bring you the menu, sir.”

Chanyeol had no idea if they were early, on time, or late. His manager blasted the new Wonder Girls album on the way over while Chanyeol immersed himself in his phone (if he didn’t text his mother back soon, he should start fearing for his life).

“Seafood?” Chanyeol frowned when he caught sight of the sign, his manager pulling the van into a nearly empty parking lot.

His manager just shrugged. Chanyeol knew that he had no more control over it than he did.

Chanyeol took one last look in the mirror before he alighted the van. He sucked in a breath of the cold evening air and assumed a relaxed expression on his face. He had already practiced in his head what he would say to the student, the mini-speech he would give about the importance of education, followed by his usual gratitude towards their support of his career. If the student becomes too enthusiastic (crying, grabbing, asking for inappropriate fan-service - the things he had experienced with fans in the past), he would gently direct their attention elsewhere just like his agency had taught him. He would smile and say beautiful things and be his handsome, charming self until the dinner date was over. And then he would go back to the practice room and never see the overachiever again.

Or that was the plan, at least.

His speech, hell – his entire was torn to shreds once he was inside the restaurant, a starry-eyed waiter (or was it a host? Chanyeol never understood these things) leading him to a table in the middle of the empty restaurant. Sitting where he had fully expected to see a female student was a male student, his eyes trained on the menu he was holding only a few inches from his face. He was facing away from the entrance, which meant Chanyeol got a glimpse of his back and side profile first. Dark, short hair. Tan. Small. _Handsome?_

“Wait, it’s a dude?” Chanyeol blurted out. Apparently, he was loud enough for the “dude” to hear, because the menu was set down, the student pivoting in his seat to get a look at the newcomer.

_Oh._ Chanyeol felt…. dumb. Confused. Speechless? Not good qualities for a person with his job. The teenager sitting before him had dark, short hair, wide eyes, a full face, and plump lips. And wait, why was he looking at his lips?

“Can I help you?” the student asked, looking entirely unimpressed by Chanyeol.

Chanyeol swallowed thickly, snapping himself out of his momentary daze. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Park Chanyeol, but I am sure you already know that.” Chanyeol winked, a gesture he had practiced extensively over the last five years. It usually had a devastating effect on its intended target, but his intended target appeared to be immune to his charms.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, standing up like he had belatedly forgotten his manners. “But I don’t remember you. Did we meet at school?”

“No.” Chanyeol choked out a laugh. The student must be the type to joke around. “Very funny.” He moved to take a seat, the student following suit. When they were seated, a heavy blanket of awkwardness set in.

The student was staring at Chanyeol from across the table, or maybe glaring was a more accurate term.

“Your name…”

“Do Kyungsoo.” The teenager reached for his water. Chanyeol couldn’t figure out if he was embarrassed or nervous or something else entirely.

“Kyungsoo.” Okay, he could work with this. He had a male fanbase, it shouldn’t surprise him that much that the fan who had won dinner with him wasn’t female. Sure, he probably had more female fans but still, this was a gentle reminder that his male fanbase was strong. “Congratulations on your perfect score.” It sounded stilted, too rehearsed to be natural.

“Thank you.” It was polite and to the point. Kyungsoo reached for the menu again and began reading it, completely ignoring Chanyeol’s presence as he perused the list of dishes with awful names like Shrimply Irresistible, Don’t Be Shellfish, and Lobster and Found. 

Chanyeol shifted in his seat. He instinctively put his hand to his hair, smoothing down his sideburns. He wasn’t used to this tactic from a fan. He was intrigued. “Education is critical, as I am sure you already know. Everyone in my group–“

“No.”

“What?” Chanyeol narrowed his eyes.

“Education. It isn’t that important. Not to everyone,” Kyungsoo explained. “I don’t find it particularly important.”

“Of course, it’s important!” Chanyeol sputtered.

“Okay. If you say so.” Kyungsoo went back to reading the menu, leaving Chanyeol to stare at him in sheer confusion.

Chanyeol reached for his own menu, snatching it up and scanning the list. He took a deep breath and tried to settle his mind. “Anyway. You did well, and I am proud to call you my fan.”

The teenager snorted, leaving Chanyeol to peer over the top of his menu.

“What?”

“I’m not your fan. I don’t even know who you are. I just want my free dinner,” Kyungsoo said matter-of-factly and wow, did that ever dent Chanyeol’s ego like a hard slap in the face. Kyungsoo seemed to sense Chanyeol’s shock, adding, “Did you get a perfect score too? Um. Congrats as well.”

Chanyeol gripped the menu. “You seriously have no idea who I am?”

“Should I?” Kyungsoo set the menu down. He took a long look at Chanyeol before continuing. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

Chanyeol felt the frown settle on his lips. He probably looked pathetic right now, sitting in an empty restaurant with someone who didn’t even know him. There were hundreds, no – thousands upon thousands of people who would give almost anything to be in the chair across from Chanyeol. Yet, of all those people, this person, this confusing boy, was the only one who met the qualifications. And he didn’t even think education was important.

But he beat someone who might grope him or spend the entire dinner crying. Chanyeol plastered a smile on his face and decided to make the best of it. He could do this. Hell, it might be a nice break from the chaos that was his usual trips out in public.

“How did you find out about dinner?”

“My friend brought me here. Signed me up for it.” Kyungsoo glanced around. “For a perfect score, you would think they would give us something a little fancier.”

He really thought he was a student. Chanyeol felt his heart thrum with anxiety, with anticipation, with the realization he was entirely anonymous in a way he hadn’t been in three years. “Right. We worked so hard.” He could do this. He could pretend.

Kyungsoo didn’t reply. He took another sip of water while Chanyeol did his best not to watch the curve of his lips.

“We should get to know each other. Tell me about yourself.” Small talk. Blissful small talk. Distracting. Chanyeol cleared his throat. They were both students, it would be natural to be friends, right?

“I prefer watching movies to anything else,” Kyungsoo said, tone even. “But I’ll end up being a chef because movie watching doesn’t pay well. My eyesight is shit, I’m lazy, but I have a perfect memory. I once walked into a telephone pole while doing a crossword puzzle on my phone right at the moment I realized the answer to the clue was Look. I’ve seen every episode of Blue’s Clues because my older brother convinced me it had an overarching plot that involved the Transformers. How about you?”

“Me? Well...” Chanyeol had a burst of enthusiasm at the situation. It was like starting over. If Kyungsoo didn’t know who he was… “I want to be a musician. I can see well but only because I had surgery. I can’t do a crossword puzzle to save my life, I wish I could play more basketball, I can bench over two hundred pounds, and um, not to brag but I am a pretty good cook.” He rambled off as fast as Kyungsoo, fitting too much information in too little words.

He could have sworn Kyungsoo’s gaze flickered momentarily to his arms. Chanyeol felt heat creep up his neck.

“I’m terrible at sports.”

“I could teach you sometime.” The words were coming out before Chanyeol could analyze how impossible they really were. He couldn’t teach anyone basketball or baseball or anything else. His schedule was too packed for anything like that to be possible.

“Maybe.” Kyungsoo settled into his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. Chanyeol found himself appreciating his looks, Kyungsoo was seriously handsome. Maybe it was hormones, hell, Chanyeol was a teenager too, or perhaps it was just reality. Kyungsoo was making him think things that he probably shouldn’t be thinking about considering he just met him.

“You could be a celebrity,” Chanyeol said, not realizing how blatantly flirtatious it sounded until it was already out of his mouth. “I uh, I mean, you’re – you, handsome.”

Kyungsoo smirked, and Chanyeol thought he died a little inside at the way Kyungsoo’s lips moved. There was something entirely too distracting about it.

“Thanks. You’re handsome too.” Kyungsoo said it in a very emotionless way, a complete three-sixty from Chanyeol’s rambling mess, but it didn’t matter. It made Chanyeol feel warm and full.

“So, what school do you go to?” Kyungsoo asked.

School. Right. “I uh-“ He picked out the school his older sister attended, the one that wasn’t all about performing arts. Kyungsoo didn’t seem to have an opinion on his answer, merely nodding to acknowledge Chanyeol had mentioned a place that existed.

The waiter interrupted to take their order, Kyungsoo confidently rattling off a dish while Chanyeol took longer to figure out what he wanted. Once the waiter was gone, a silence settled between them, only broken when Kyungsoo asked, “What college will you be attending?”

College? Chanyeol felt his mouth go dry. Right. He was supposed to be a student who had a perfect score, just like Do Kyungsoo. He should have a college picked out, preferably one of the top universities in the country.

“Haven’t figure it out yet.” It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t figured it out – because he would never be attending college. “How about you?”

“Whichever one my parents end up picking, unfortunately. I’m going to end up working at my family’s restaurant regardless, I don’t need a four-year degree to figure out how to run it.”

“What restaurant?” Chanyeol asked.

“Northern Plank.”

Chanyeol knew of it. It was the same place his aunt and uncle had gone to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. It was expensive, and in demand, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “Wow. Your parents own that?”

Kyungsoo nodded. “Yes. I practically grew up there, which is why I think college is a complete waste of time. If I haven’t learned it already, I am hopeless.”

Chanyeol felt a burgeoning kinship with the way Kyungsoo dismissed the frivolity of school. Hadn’t he done the same thing back when he had quit? His parents hadn’t been happy, especially his mother, but he knew that school would only hold back his career. He was learning what he needed to by training at the agency. And now there was someone his age, saying the same thing, albeit with a very different future in mind. The hard-line from his agency, the one that told him he needed to support education and tell his fans to study hard, melted away, leaving park Chanyeol to be himself, honest opinions and all.

From there, the conversation came quickly between them. They had more in common than Chanyeol could have guessed, especially given the fact he had been unable to indulge in much but work in the last three years. They were only a few months apart, Kyungsoo was eighteen while Chanyeol was nineteen. Kyungsoo even mentioned a small shop in the neighborhood where Chanyeol grew up, a surprising connection that made Chanyeol happier than it reasonably should have. They had a shared dark, almost inappropriate sense of humor, as evidenced by their lengthy discussion about the webtoons they were keeping up with. Chanyeol could see them being close friends if they had met any other way…. if they had met the way Kyungsoo thought they had.

By the time Chanyeol’s manager came in to fetch him, he was so totally engrossed in getting to know Kyungsoo that time had seemed irrelevant. When he was told it was time to go, he felt like arguing.

“Can I give you my number?” Chanyeol blurted out, hoping Kyungsoo would agree to it.

To have one person who knew nothing about his idol life, about his fame, about his online profile and nicknames – he couldn’t let that go.

“Sure. Why not.” Kyungsoo’s cell case was a picture of an alligator. Chanyeol found it as subtly charming as its owner.

“I’ll text you. Maybe we can hang out.” Chanyeol knew that would be nearly impossible, but he would try. He hadn’t felt this free in a long time.

“Have a good night, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said. Chanyeol found the way his name rolled off Kyungsoo’s tongue oddly pleasing.

“You too.” Chanyeol flashed a genuine smile this time, leaving with a small wave that Kyungsoo returned.

“How was your date?” Baekhyun sing-songed, plopping down on Kyungsoo’s bed full force. The intrusion caused Kyungsoo’s laptop to slide from his lap with a bounce.

“Date?” Kyungsoo asked, grabbing for his computer. He hadn’t seen Baekhyun in a few days, ever since he had dropped him off at – “You mean that dinner thing you tricked me into?”

“Tricked you?! I take offense to that.” Baekhyun mocked being wounded. “I did it for you, my dear Kyungsoo. It’s a story you will tell your children.”

“I don’t want children,” Kyungsoo deadpanned, managing to click pause, so he didn’t miss any more of Dunkirk. “And even if I did, why would I tell them about a subpar seafood restaurant?”

“You are seriously so weird,” Baekhyun hummed, grabbing for one of Kyungsoo’s pillows. “But it just makes you more loveable.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and pushed play, settling back to watch the rest of the movie with his friend. A few minutes later, he realized he hadn’t been paying attention, which was very unlike him. His mind kept wandering back to the tall student he had met at dinner. He hadn’t received a text from him yet and categorically refused to be the one to text first. Yet he hoped he would see something from Chanyeol.

He had fun eating with him, even if he said some bizarre, borderline narcissistic things when they first met. It was quickly excusable, Kyungsoo decided. Chanyeol was probably just bad at talking to people like Kyungsoo was. Once they started to get to know each other, Chanyeol had been fun to talk to. Nice. And he was hot…really hot. Kyungsoo felt a stirring in his chest when he considered just how attractive Chanyeol was.

He wondered; would he ever see Park Chanyeol again?

“Is this movie before or after World War Two?” Baekhyun asked, nudging Kyungsoo in the ribs.

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just ask me that,” Kyungsoo answered, a heavy sigh escaping hi8s lips.

**November 2016**

Kyungsoo had tried to break the habit, but the pattern wasn’t ready to leave him, at least not yet. Not when Sous Chef Kim Jongin spilled a cup of broth over the Vegan Charcuterie. Kyungsoo was doing that thing, the disappointed face, the expression he really should learn to control if he wanted to decrease the staff turnover in his kitchen. His father had given him another lecture about it earlier that week.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin apologized for the umpteenth time.

“It’s fine,” Kyungsoo lied, doing his best to force a smile. “We all make mistakes.” _But we shouldn’t make mistakes in my kitchen._

“Really?” Jongin sounded hopeful.

“Yes, of course.” Kyungsoo mentally tallied the cost of the ruined dish, adding it to his mental ledger. He liked Jongin, he really did, but the man was clumsy.

Jongin breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing.

“Chef, we have a VIP coming in,” Soojung, the newest member of the waitstaff (and unwitting pawn of the dining room manager) announced as she strode into the kitchen, plates balancing on her arms.

Kyungsoo groaned. That meant he would need to leave his kitchen or risk the ire of his parents. It was important that VIPs came to their restaurant because it was publicity, good (and often free) publicity. His father had set the precedent of greeting VIPS in person, a tradition that Kyungsoo was expected to continue even though he hated it. It was an interruption he could rarely afford, time away from the kitchen that never seemed to benefit him or the customers in the end. He didn’t have his father’s more outgoing demeanor, which made it harder for him to carry a conversation with a complete stranger.

“When are they coming?”

“Nine,” Soojung answered.

“Alright.” Kyungsoo acknowledged before stalking over to where the Pantry Che was busy chopping up cucumbers. The method was all wrong. Behind him, Soojung cleared her throat.

“What is it?”

“The VIP might need some extra security,” she said. “We’ve been asked to clear out the back dining room.”

“On a Saturday night?” Kyungsoo asked, his tone rising. “Are they insane?”

“We can deny the request.”

“No, no. My father will kill me.” Kyungsoo waved Soojung away. “Go tell the dining manager. If he approves, confirm we can do it.” He managed the kitchen, after all. The dining room – that was not his territory.

“Yes, sir.” She bowed and scurried off to carry out his command. 

A heavy sigh escaped Kyungsoo’s lips. He really had little patience for VIPs.

  
  


It made him feel a little like a spy. A dashing, handsome (of course), cool––

“You look like you’re going to rob something.” Junmyeon frowned at Chanyeol, looking him up and down. “How are you supposed to be inconspicuous dressed like that?”

“It’s all black. It makes me look mysterious.” Chanyeol smoothed his wide palms over the front of his long dark trench coat.

“I can see your pink hair from under your hat,” Junmyeon pointed out. “Anyone can tell you’re an idol.”

Chanyeol pulled his cap down lower. “If you don’t want me to take you, I can stay home…”

“You look very mysterious,” Sehun butted in, appearing from the living room. He wrapped his arms around Junmyeon’s middle, pulling him in close. “Hyung, say he looks mysterious.”

“Um. Yes, Chanyeol, you look mysterious,” Junmyeon said in a flat tone.

Chanyeol grinned, knowing full well they were only placating them to get what they wanted (which was a date somewhere that wasn’t their dorm or a car). A brief sliver of normalcy, one that Chanyeol promised he could deliver.

And maybe there was the tiniest bit of selfishness in Chanyeol’s offer to help his group mates have a proper date.

“You promise we won’t be caught?” Sehun asked in a low voice as they left the dorm, sneaking out the back way to avoid the fans that often lingered near the front entrance.

“Trust me, I know the owner,” Chanyeol assured him, pulling the collar of his black trench coat up for effect.

It was only a partial lie.

At five after nine, Do Kyungsoo, the executive Chef of Northern Plank, walked calmly from his kitchen, his hands clasped behind his back. He took the long hall to the back-dining room, noticing there was some dust along the baseboards as he passed. He would have to talk to the dining room manager about that.

He pushed the swinging door open and stepped into the smaller of the restaurant’s three dining rooms. It was cozy, more intimate, with darker décor and lower lighting. Kyungsoo had always fond it romantic, it was a favorite place for people celebrating anniversaries and engagements.

There were two men seated at the table tucked into the corner – the pair were sitting at the most discrete table in the place.

“Good evening,” Kyungsoo greeted. The two men looked up at him while another person appeared in Kyungsoo’s peripheral vision. Kyungsoo startled, taking a step back, not expecting there to be another person in the dining room. He hadn’t spotted any of the security guards that often-accompanied VIP guests, so he had assumed they were alone.

“Do Kyungsoo.” Tall. Wide smile. Dressed in an absolutely ridiculous costume…

Kyungsoo squinted. “Yes, that’s my name. Do I know you?” _Park Chanyeol._ He recognized him immediately, hell he couldn’t forget him if he tried (freakish memory and all), but he didn’t think there was a benefit in admitting that. He didn’t want to come off like some freak, clearly remembering someone he met once years ago. He was used to always being the one to remember, and he had learned from experience it wasn’t beneficial to admit it ninety percent of the time.

“Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol – remember?! We ate seafood together like five years ago. The guy with the perfect CSAT score.” Chanyeol said excitedly. From somewhere behind him, one of the men started cough-laughing.

“Perfect CSAT?” the other man blurted out, bursting into laughter a second later.

Kyungsoo frowned. “Ah. Yes, I remember. Sorry, the lighting isn’t very good here. How have you been?”

_Why didn’t you ever text me? How in the hell did you know I work here? And how in the hell did you get hotter?_

“Good. How have you been?” Chanyeol shifted on his feet, ignoring the dying laughter from the table behind him.

“Good.” Kyungsoo clasped his hands together. “Are these your friends?” He peeked past his old acquaintance. The two were obviously celebrities, they looked expensive. Beautiful hair, handsome faces, expensive clothing.

“They are my-” Chanyeol leaned in and in a low voice said, “Employers. I’m an assistant. Executive assistant.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo nodded. “I see.”

Chanyeol rocked back on the balls of his feet. He was smiling stupidly at Kyungsoo, not saying anything. Kyungsoo could admit he had matured in all the right ways since their last encounter. He was taller, broader.

Kyungsoo stepped to the side, walking past him towards the table. “Welcome to Northern Plank. I am the executive chef, Do Kyungsoo.” He explained the specials, explaining the ingredients when one of the men asked for more detail.

The taller of the two seemed knowledgeable about food, the other looked like he was in a daze while Kyungsoo listed everything off. When Kyungsoo turned to walk back to the kitchen, he almost collided with Chanyeol, who had apparently been hovering a few feet behind him.

“Have you had dinner yet?” Chanyeol asked, trailing after the chef.

“I’m working,” Kyungsoo said firmly. “So, no.”

“What time do you get off?” Chanyeol followed up.

Kyungsoo stopped walking and turned around. He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Chanyeol looked embarrassed. He glanced away, shifting on his feet. “I thought maybe we could eat together. If you have time, I mean.”

Kyungsoo pursed his lips, considering the offer. The restaurant wouldn’t close until midnight, but he could step away after ten if he really wanted to (a benefit of being the owner’s son). “I have time around ten.”

Chanyeol beamed. “Okay. I um, I’ll be in here when you’re done.” He pointed towards the small dining room.

Kyungsoo nodded. During the walk back to the kitchen, he realized his heart rate had picked up, an excited thrum settling in his chest.

Fine, so Chanyeol had googled Do Kyungsoo, not stopping until he found his profile and stalked it right back to the restaurant where he was currently seated, picking at the napkins while he waited for Kyungsoo to get off work. It could be considered creepy, but Chanyeol found it efficient. Modern. Hopefully effective.

Do Kyungsoo came out and took a seat across from Chanyeol a little after ten, taking the table across the room from where Sehun and Junmyeon were sipping wine and laughing, their hands consistently intertwined as they dined.

Kyungsoo slid into the seat, his hair mussed from being under his chef’s hat all evening. He looked tired, face a little puffy. Chanyeol thought he looked beautiful.

“What have you been up to?” Kyungsoo asked, stirring the cup of tea he had brought with him.

Chanyeol almost answered honestly – he had filmed a secondary role in a drama, XOXO’s latest album was selling well, he had a post on a variety show – but he bit his tongue. “You know, same old, same old.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “How about you?”

“Work.” Kyungsoo took a sip of his tea. Chanyeol had forgotten how beautiful his lips were. “I graduated from college like my parents wanted and ended up exactly where I knew I would be, which is working at this restaurant.”

“It’s a nice restaurant,” Chanyeol hummed. He couldn’t believe his luck. Kyungsoo still had no idea who he was. He kind of wondered if Kyungsoo would even care if he told him. Anonymity was a dream, and Kyungsoo gave it to him yet again –– but what if anonymity was a ruse, something that could continue no matter what his day job was? It was probably wishful thinking.

“Sorry, I never texted,” Chanyeol blurted out. He had regretted it, even if he knew it was inevitable. Back then, management had tighter control over his phone, he had little time to talk to anyone who wasn’t in his group or a member of his immediate family. He barely saw his old school friends, there was no room to make a new one even if he wanted to. But he regretted it, and for some, perhaps slightly bizarre reasons, Do Kyungsoo had never really left his thoughts over the years.

“It’s fine.” Kyungsoo set his mouth in a tight line. “We have both been very busy, I’m sure.”

“Yes. Very.” Chanyeol settled back in his seat. “It’s nice to see you again. You look good.”

Kyungsoo murmured a thanks and a “You too.”

Dare Chanyeol imagine it, but a faint dusting of red seemed to blossom on Kyungsoo’s cheeks. He looked away, fighting a smile, heart-swelling.

Kyungsoo could admit he was good looking. He knew he was attractive; enough men and women had flirted with him to confirm it. Usually, he could care less when people gave him a second look. He had his career, he had his cacti garden, and he was perfectly fine not having a deeper relationship with anyone. He dated here and there in college, and he wasn’t against the occasional hookup, but for the most part, romantic or sexual relationships were not something he was looking for, at least not at this point in his life.

But Park Chanyeol’s easy smiles and blatant flirtations did something to him. His face felt warm, and his body was reacting in a way it usually didn’t. He felt an excitement that he wasn’t sure he wanted. There was a connection there, even if he preferred to ignore it rather than acknowledge it. 

“Thank you,” Chanyeol suddenly said, not explaining exactly what he was grateful for.

Kyungsoo nodded, glancing past Chanyeol to where Chanyeol’s employers sat, their intertwined hands resting on the table. It made Kyungsoo feel biting loneliness that took him by surprise.

“What do you do for them?” he asked, nodding towards the table.

Chanyeol answered cryptically. “Errands, important things. You know, the life of an assistant.”

No, he didn’t know. Kyungsoo had no clue what an assistant did. “What did you end up going to college for?”

“Uh, math?” Chanyeol answered like it was a question. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

Kyungsoo almost choked on his tea. “What?”

“Nothing.” Chanyeol laughed nervously. “I’m single.”

Kyungsoo felt his cheeks flame. “Me too.” What in the hell was happening? Was Chanyeol asking him out?

“I have a poodle,” Chanyeol blurted out, fiddling to pull his phone out of his pocket. He almost dropped it as he shoved it across the table towards Kyungsoo. “His name’s Toben. I got him from a shelter.”

Kyungsoo latched onto the awkward introduction of pet photographs. He would latch onto anything that would tear him away from the fact this acquaintance from so many years ago had burst back into his life - potentially to ask him on a date (one he totally would say yes to going on because _damn)_. Park Chanyeol was ticking off all the things Kyungsoo found attractive. Height, looks, moronic behavior, dog rescue. He was no longer the lanky teenager that Kyungsoo first met, and for once, amid his career and his cacti and his total disinterest in most humankind, Kyungsoo found a spark he felt like chasing.

Chanyeol left Northern Plank with a new number in his phone and a heavy feeling settling in his chest. Do Kyungsoo was as handsome as he remembered, and he made him feel as carefree as he had five years before. And he knew, as he slipped into the driver's seat of his black SUV, that there was little to no chance he would be able to text or call him, even if his agency had relaxed restrictions on his personal life in the last year.

He wanted, god he wanted to pursue something, be it friendship or something more. But it wasn’t the right time, he was just too big of a coward to say it to Kyungsoo when the chef was sliding his phone across the table, a repeat of years before. He made promises he couldn’t keep, and he felt like shit for it.

“Thank you for taking us,” Sehun said from the back seat, his ram around Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Your friend seems nice.”

“No problem,” Chanyeol drawled, starting the car. “And he is.”

**July 2019**

Kyungsoo ordered the salmon and pinot noir. His date, Choi Minho, was a lawyer that he’d met at one of Baekhyun’s mixers. He was handsome, he was kind, he was polite, and he was, in Kyungsoo’s opinion, boring as hell.

He talked about nice things, about business, about his job, about the marathon he ran last year. He asked Kyungsoo all the right questions – getting to know him without being intrusive. Kyungsoo lost interest before the second course was served.

They went to a movie after dinner, an action flick that Kyungsoo hadn’t seen before. Minho bought popcorn, and Kyungsoo bought nachos. They traded polite small talk before the film started, Kyungsoo already knowing it would be their first and last date. He just didn’t feel a connection.

Kyungsoo had made it his mission to date this year, to find someone, to have more of a personal life. So far, he had gone on over a dozen dates, but there was nothing. No spark. No shared interest. It was starting to depress him.

He sighed and settled into his seat, angling a little away from Minho just in case he tried the old arm around his shoulder trick. He didn’t seem like the type, but Kyungsoo had been surprised before. 

He zoned out while staring at the screen, almost missing the moment.

Park Chanyeol’s character appeared in only six scenes, the first occurring forty minutes after the film started. Kyungsoo was truthfully beginning to nod off when the familiar face flashed on the Ultra screen.

“Wait, who is that?” Kyungsoo asked, leaning forward, suddenly wide awake.

Minho glanced at him. “He’s the brother of the bad guy.”

“No, I mean the actor.” Kyungsoo could swear that was Chanyeol. He hadn’t seen him in a couple of years, and sure they were only briefly acquainted, but Chanyeol’s face was hard to mistake – and he rarely forgot a face.

“Some idol, I think. I don’t know his name,” Minho whispered.

The moment Kyungsoo walked into his apartment (after gently letting Minho down), he opened his phone and googled Park Chanyeol.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he whispered, scrolling through the results, completely dumbfounded. “Yah, Byun Baekhyun!” he shouted to his empty apartment. He was going to kill his best friend the next time he saw him.

Chanyeol had a nickname: Fan Signing Fairy.

Okay, fine, it was Kim Jongdae’s nickname, but Chanyeol was sure he was just as good at making fans feel special during signings as his teammate was. Chanyeol remembered his fans, he was good at making them feel unique with a smile or a kind word. He was patient and of course, he was handsome and buff and –

“Stop zoning out with that smile on your face. It’s creepy,” Jongdae said, sliding a water bottle across the table to Chanyeol.

It was summer and sweltering hot. XOXO had just released their sixth album a week before, and they were knee-deep in fan signings and music shows. Chanyeol had only slept two hours the night before and knew the other guys were running on a similar lack of sleep. Zoning out while he considered his perfection was probably the least of his worries.

“I can’t help thinking about how good looking I am,” Chanyeol whispered.

“Yeah, that’s creepy, too,” Jongdae hummed.

The fans were starting to queue up. Chanyeol glanced at the long line. He took a swig from the cold-water bottle, feeling the perspiration forming on the back of his neck. It would be a long day, but the paycheck was worth it. His time as an idol had a finite expiration date, and his agency had ramped up reminding him of the fact. Being an idol was a young person’s game, and while he was only twenty-six, the years would go by fast. He should make as much money as he could before he was too old – he couldn’t be sure what the future would hold for him.

Three hours into the fan signing, Chanyeol was exhausted. He had held hands, sang a little, and god knows how many things he had drawn on fans photo cards. He was wearing a flower crown, a stack of tissues sitting next to him so he could dab off the sweat when it formed on his brow. The makeup artists had been by twice to touch up his foundation with a light powder. He was selling perfection, after all.

He gripped the marker tightly, waiting for the next fan to slide in. _Remember, this may be the only time they see you. Smile. Be friendly. Make them your fan for life._

“Hello. What’s your name?” Chanyeol asked, smiling brightly at-

“Hello, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said, gripping the glossy picture in his hands.

“Kyungsoo?” Chanyeol said, his mouth going dry.

Kyungsoo had never been to a fan signing. He had never even been to a concert – music wasn’t really his thing. He had no idea that going to one would require waiting in line in the scorching heat. He had no idea that they could last five-plus hours, or that a line of security was always present, keeping the line moving at a brisk pace. He had no idea that he would have to buy fifty albums to be admitted. Good thing he was careful with his money and had plenty to spare.

He looked down at the picture of XOXO’s rapper, Park Chanyeol. He had his autograph, a messy scrawl in thick black marker. Chanyeol had been shocked, he could see it on his face.

_Do you have time to talk? I’ll be done in an hour. Meet me by the van behind the stage._

Kyungsoo had dutifully waited for him even though he wasn’t sure exactly why. After he had figured out who Park Chanyeol was, he had a lot of thoughts. Chanyeol had tricked him, just like Baekhyun had. He had made a fool out of himself. Also, Chanyeol was the most un-celebrity celebrity he had ever met. Was he really that famous?

His fan café numbers said he was.

Kyungsoo tapped the toe of his sneaker against the hot pavement. Chanyeol was just like everyone else, no matter what his job was. He was just like anyone Kyungsoo had met in his life– except way hotter and more comfortable to talk to and...

Still, they didn’t owe each other anything ––hell, they were merely acquaintances. Yet he couldn’t bury the disappointment when Chanyeol never texted him or called him. The anger that had bubbled up, the resentment that had settled in – towards himself as well as Chanyeol. Because in the end, he hadn’t called either, he hadn’t texted. Their spark had disappeared the moment they said their goodbyes years before. So why did it feel like it reignited the moment their eyes met at the fan signing?

He was the one that never forgot, he was used to it, but Chanyeol should have forgotten him; it wouldn’t make sense for him to remember. Kyungsoo shook his head. No, Chanyeol clearly remembered him. It was written all over his face.

“How long have you known?”

Kyungsoo looked up from the picture to see Chanyeol standing a few feet away. He had changed his clothes, gone was the Hawaiian shirt he had been wearing dirking the fan signing, in its place was a white t-shirt. He looked like he had washed his face too, the eyeliner Kyungsoo had noticed was missing as well.

“A few weeks,” Kyungsoo answered.

Chanyeol clenched his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Kyungsoo’s fingers pressed into the picture. “Why would you be sorry?”

“I just am.” Chanyeol shuffled to stand next to Kyungsoo. “I’m sorry we never talked more. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. I’m sorry–“

“It isn’t like we’re dead,” Kyungsoo pointed out, looking up at Chanyeol. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “We can be friends now. And I could have called you too, it’s my fault as well. And does it really matter what you do for a living?”

Chanyeol reached his hand up, dragging it through his hair, he looked away. “Kyungsoo…”

“I don’t know a lot about your job, but I have read some things.” Kyungsoo thought back to the articles he had browsed over the last few weeks, things about fans and restrictions that he had never imagined. “Come find me when you have more time, Chanyeol. I won’t go anywhere. I hate change. Plus, I’m glued to Northern Plank for life, like it or not.” He feigned a smile, attempting to appear carefree. “It isn’t that big of a deal, trust me.”

Kyungsoo was surprised when Chanyeol reached forward, lightly grabbing Kyungsoo’s hand. “Kyungsoo…” He didn’t say anything more, just stared at their hands.

He like the feel of his hand in Chanyeol’s; he liked the way his smaller hand rested in Chanyeol’s broad palm–– but he hated how he would remember this no matter what happened later. That his memory would never let the moment go. And he hated how he felt like maybe he wasn’t the only one stuck with memories.

Kyungsoo had read other things, things that weren’t about fans and agencies. Things that made him think that perhaps the vivid memories that he took for granted were something Chanyeol held as well. They were acquaintances, but they had made an impact on each other with only the briefest contact. “I’ll see you later. When you’re ready.” He squeezed Chanyeol’s hand, as reassurance. Friendly. It was friendly.

Chanyeol pulled him into a hug, another unexpected move that had Kyungsoo letting out a small noise of surprise.

“How are you a real person?” Chanyeol asked. “How?”

“Maybe I’m not,” Kyungsoo joked. “How many people really exist that get a perfect score on the CSAT? Statistically, there is a greater chance I am something you dreamed up.”

Chanyeol only hugged him harder, leaving Kyungsoo to smile into the soft fabric of Chanyeol’s t-shirt.

The reporter flipped her cue cards, balancing the microphone in one hand.

“What is your ideal type?” she asked, looking at Chanyeol. The others had already answered their questions. They were all fiddling with their microphones, waiting for Chanyeol to answer.

“Someone cute and shorter than me. I like smart people. Someone who can cook! And um,” Chanyeol’s tongue darted out, licking his bottom lip. “It’s a bonus if they like webtoons. And Blues Clues. I know, I know, that’s a super weird thing.”

The host forced a smile while the other members seemed totally zoned out, nodding politely while not paying attention. She flipped to the next card.

Kyungsoo clicked the power button of the remote. He sat, staring at the black screen. It was an interview from two years before when XOXO was promoting their album release. Kyungsoo had watched it more times than he cared to admit.

Okay, but Blues Clues? Park Chanyeol was not the most subtle person he had ever met.

Kyungsoo sighed, letting his head flop back on his sofa. A smile spread across his face as he clicked the remote again, happy to hear it all over again.

**July 2023**

Kyungsoo had a shit day. He was tired, his back hurt (why did he ever think lifting that bucket of ice was a good idea), and his father was breathing down his back to increase profits. He had a smidgen of flour on his left cheek and god knows what staining the front of his white uniform.

“Someone is here to see you, chef.” Soojung, now the head of the waitstaff, announced, strolling into the kitchen around closing time.

“Tell them I’m busy,” Kyungsoo said, not caring who it was. He was too tired for anyone.

“But-“

“But what?” Kyungsoo shot back, annoyed.

“Chef, It’s Park Chanyeol,” Soojung informed him.

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows shot up. “Chanyeol?”

Soojung nodded.

“Is he alone?”

“Yes, chef.”

Kyungsoo’s shit day might have just turned around. Maybe.

“Hi.” Chanyeol had a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Kyungsoo knew from the fan café that Chanyeol was no longer under contract. He had left his agency and was in the process of setting up his own studio.

“Hi,” Kyungsoo replied, hesitant to read too much into his hopes and dreams.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Chanyeol asked, no hint of hesitation. He looked good, the dark circles that Kyungsoo saw in pictures were gone. His hair was a little longer, but he looked healthier.

Kyungsoo shook his head, unable to fight his smile. “You?”

“Nope,” Chanyeol answered, holding the bouquet out for Kyungsoo to take.

Kyungsoo didn’t usually go home with someone on the first date, but he made an exception for Park Chanyeol. Twelve years had passed since their first meeting, which Kyungsoo decided made up for the one date rule.

“You’re rich,” Kyungsoo said, stating the obvious when they pulled into one of the most exclusive apartment complexes in the city. Chanyeol laughed awkwardly, mumbling a “yeah” as he parked his car.

“My mother will love you,” Kyungsoo deadpanned, leaving Chanyeol to try to decipher how truthful the statement was.

Chanyeol lived on one of the higher floors in a two-bedroom place he had purchased a year ago. It was still a bit of a mess, not entirely decorated to his taste, but it was his. He was proud to show it to Kyungsoo – proud to point out the place where he wrote songs, the spot on the wall where the sizeable composite collage his fans made him hung.

“Please don’t go in my kitchen,” he begged as Kyungsoo made a beeline for it. “You’ll hate me.”

“I doubt that,” Kyungsoo said over his shoulder, and damn why was even that simple gesture so attractive?

Chanyeol trailed after him like a puppy who had just dug into the garbage but had yet to be caught, looking away when Kyungsoo opened his fridge and rummaged around.

“I like to cook, but I’m not a chef. And I don’t really have a lot of time to do it anymore.” Chanyeol wrung his hands together.

“Why are you so nervous?” Kyungsoo asked, shutting the door quietly.

“Because I really like you,” Chanyeol blurted out before his brain could stop his tongue. A split second of heavy silence passed.

“I know,” Kyungsoo said in that flat tone that Chanyeol thought was teasing but couldn’t be exactly sure about. “I noticed.”

Kyungsoo leaned his back against the cupboard next to the refrigerator. He crossed his legs, hands braced against the edge of the countertop. “I like you too.”

Chanyeol couldn’t remember feeling this happy in a very long time. He was rendered dumb by it. “You do?”

“Yeah. So, where’s your bedroom?” Kyungsoo asked, biting his bottom lip in a way that went straight to Chanyeol’s dick.

“This way,” Chanyeol answered, not sure he would survive the night.

Chanyeol had thought about kissing Kyungsoo multiple times – little flashes of what-ifs that skirted the edges of his mind over the years. Nothing too concrete, nothing he thought would come to fruition, just moments when he remembered, when he considered, when he regretted what couldn’t happen. But doing it, finally feeling what it was like to kiss the man he had met so long ago, was better than anything he could have imagined.

It was like coming home.

Kyungsoo was a good kisser, his lips soft and his tongue insistent. He knew how to angle his head so Chanyeol could lick deeper into his mouth. He knew, somehow, he fucking knew that putting his hand on Chanyeol’s cheek, his thumb pressing into his jaw, would ignite the simmering fire in Chanyeol’s core.

It seemed so natural, so inevitable, the way Kyungsoo sat on the edge of the bed, and Chanyeol found the place next to him. Kyungsoo leaned in first, but Chanyeol would never – _could never_ – deny him. They had fallen onto Chanyeol’s bed, words unspoken, both making up for lost time.

Kyungsoo’s hands felt good, sliding along his arms, his rough palm smoothing against the column of Chanyeol’s neck. His hot breath teased along Chanyeol’s jaw as they broke their kiss, plump lips pressing into his skin.

Chanyeol sucked in a breath, his hand sliding under the fabric of Kyungsoo’s black t-shirt. His skin was soft, smooth.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” Chanyeol asked, hands mapping Kyungsoo’s middle.

Kyungsoo answered by sucking a mark into Chanyeol’s neck, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Chanyeol groaned, his dick already tenting against his pants. His hands found Kyungsoo’s side, then moved up palming against one of Kyungsoo’s nipples.

Kyungsoo shuddered at the touch, a low and throaty moan spoken into Chanyeol’s neck.

“You like that?” Chanyeol mused, moving his thumb to flick over Kyungsoo’s nipple. Kyungsoo’s immediate reaction, the way he sucked in a breath, gave Chanyeol his answer.

It was all he needed to begin thumbing the hardening buds, eyes trained on Kyungsoo’s face, on the way he scrunched his brow, on the way his cheeks flushed with heat when Chanyeol tugged lightly on his nipples. Kyungsoo was sensual in a way that Chanyeol had never encountered, the small change in his expression, the noises that spilled from his mouth sending blood rushing to Chanyeol’s cock. He could watch Kyungsoo for hours, lost in the way he reacted to Chanyeol’s touch, to his mouth.

It was Kyungsoo who tugged at his shirt, not happy until Chanyeol was helping to peel it off him, tossing it on the floor. 

Chanyeol’s mouth, needy and searching, found Kyungsoo’s left nipple, tonguing and sucking languidly on the bud while Kyungsoo keened, back arching at the sensation. He thumbed the right nipple, reveling in the noises Kyungsoo made when he pressed against them in just the right way.

“Off,” Kyungsoo whispered, hands digging into Chanyeol’s shirt.

From there, it was an inevitable shedding of clothing, Chanyeol’s shirt, and pants joining Kyungsoo’s tee, Kyungsoo’s pants the next to go. When Chanyeol crawled back on the bed, they were both nearly nude, only their boxers remaining.

Chanyeol wasted little time in resuming his mission of memorizing every inch of Kyungsoo, every patch of skin, every mole, every place he could touch and caress that would illicit the breathy noises of pleasure that he had quickly become addicted to.

He nuzzled against Kyungsoo’s middle, pressing kisses along his abdomen, stopping at the waist of his boxers. He could see the shape of Kyungsoo’s dick, the wet patch of pre-cum staining the middle. When he put his mouth over it, sucking lightly against the damp spot, Kyungsoo tensed. Chanyeol took the opportunity to smooth his hand to Kyungsoo’s backside, giving it a squeeze.

“You better be doing more down there than that,” Kyungsoo warned, toes curling.

Chanyeol quirked his eyebrow in question.

“Do you have any lube?” Kyungsoo clarified. “If you can...” he trailed off, not needing to say it.

Chanyeol was quick to move towards the nightstand, pulling the bottle from the drawer. He was hard, painfully so, made worse by the way Kyungsoo looked absolutely debauched lying on his bed, his dick straining against his boxers, skin flushed, lips swollen. HIs form cast in the low light of the lamp on the nightstand.

“How are you so beautiful?” Chanyeol asked, crawling back to the embodiment of perfection that he was lucky enough to have in his bed.

“Says the superstar.” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes.

“Says the one the superstar is about to fuck,” Chanyeol countered. He made a show of clicking the bottle open and squirting the lubricant onto his fingers, amused by the way Kyungsoo was watching him, bottom lip sucked in.

“Ready?”

“Hmm.” Somewhere along the line, Kyungsoo had removed his boxers, revealing his plump thighs and ass. Chanyeol moved between his legs, kneading his thigh gently. He could see Kyungsoo’s hole, the pink rim tight. He pressed a kiss along the inside of Kyungsoo’s thigh, moving his fingers closer.

Chanyeol circled the pink, puckered flesh, the tip of his finger leaving a trail of glossy lubricant. He marveled at the visible tensing in Kyungsoo’s thighs that occurred with the lightest touch like his body was expecting more. 

Chanyeol pressed a kiss into the inside of Kyungsoo’s thigh at the same time he pressed his finger against Kyungsoo’s rim, feeling the muscles close over his digit with only the slightest resistance. Kyungsoo let out a breathy noise as Chanyeol slid his finger inside of him, working him open slowly, gently, his lips caressing Kyungsoo’s skin to comfort him.

“So tight,” Chanyeol rasped, adding another finger. “Baby, does it feel good?”

Kyungsoo bit back a moan, scooting down to clench around Chanyeol’s fingers, sucking them up greedily. “Faster,” he said, sounding demanding and impatient. “I want you to fuck me.”

Chanyeol sucked in a breath, unable to argue. His dick was straining against his boxers, a patch of pre-cum wetting the fabric. Chanyeol had been with people before, he wasn’t a virgin by any means. Still, Kyungsoo... there was something artlessly erotic about his movements, his words, his voice, that Chanyeol had never encountered before. Every little moan went straight to Chanyeol’s dick, spurring on his actions, making him want more, more, more. 

He pressed his fingers in deeper, watching as Kyungsoo keened, head falling back to display the tan column of his neck. He pistoned them out, thrusting back in, watching Kyungsoo’s hole suck them in. He mirrored Kyungsoo’s impatience, removing his fingers as soon as Kyungsoo told him he was ready, wiping them on the small towel he had grabbed when he went to retrieve the lube.

Chanyeol fumbled to get the condom out of his nightstand drawer. He was seconds from tearing it open when Kyungsoo snatched the package from his fingers. “Let me.”

Chanyeol wasn’t going to argue. He pushed his boxers down, letting them fall onto the floor to join the rest of their clothing. His dick sprang free, hard and flush against his stomach, glistening at the head. He pumped it once, twice, his heart thrumming in his chest at the realization that Kyungsoo was about to touch him.

Kyungsoo didn’t make a flashy show of it, but he didn’t have to. Chanyeol was entranced by him, by the way, he gripped the base of his cock with one hand, rolling the condom down with the other. When he looked up at Chanyeol through dark lashes, Chanyeol’s breath hitched.

Kyungsoo smirked at his reaction, and Chanyeol knew at that moment Kyungsoo was the devil himself.

He leaned down, hand coming to Kyungsoo’s cheek, urging him up. He needed to kiss him, needed to feel him. Needed. Needed.

They fell back on the bed, Kyungsoo’s back bouncing on the mattress as Chanyeol’s tongue slid into his mouth. Kyungsoo’s legs parted, and Chanyeol found it natural, the way he slotted himself between them. He could feel Kyungsoo’s hardness against his abdomen, feel the stick wet pre-cum as he broke the kiss, moving his hand to grip Kyungsoo’s hip.

Chanyeol guided his cock towards Kyungsoo’s hole, wanting to see Kyungsoo take him in, swallow around his cock. Kyungsoo hissed words of impatience as Chanyeol lined himself up, words that morphed into a breathy moan when he rubbed the head of his dick against Kyungsoo’s rim.

Chanyeol pressed his hips forward, sucking in his bottom lip as his cock slide into Kyungsoo inch by inch. Kyungsoo was already tight around him, clenching around his length. It was a heady sensation, one that made both men suck in a breath, hearts racing. Chanyeol felt like fire danced along his skin, creeping up his neck, his body reacting to the incredible feeling of being inside Kyungsoo.

When he pulled out Kyungsoo whined.

“I know, I know,” Chanyeol repeated like a mantra, pressing back inside, setting a rhythm. He leaned in, lips finding Kyungsoo’s again, one hand gripping his hip, the other steadying Chanyeol’s weight. Kyungsoo’s hands found Chanyeol’s back, his arms, digging tiny pink crescents into the muscles of his biceps, marking him along the lines of his now faded tattoos.

Kyungsoo keened, back arching, toes curling into the soft fabric of Chanyeol’s sheets. Chanyeol’s fingers pressed into his skin, hot and insistent, as he fucked deeper.

“Tell me what you want,” Chanyeol husked, teeth grazing against Kyungsoo’s jaw. “Baby.”

“Hard,” Kyungsoo said, legs hugging Chanyeol’s waist.

Chanyeol picked up the pace, slamming deep inside of Kyungsoo, his hips snapping. “Like this.”

“Harder,” Kyungsoo said through gritted teeth.

Chanyeol complied. He pistoned, using the muscles in his thighs, in his legs, to fuck deep and hard inside of Kyungsoo, his balls slapping against Kyungsoo’s ass, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

“You want to be fucked hard, baby.” Chanyeol husked, “Tell me.”

Kyungsoo cried out at one particularly pointed thrust, head going back, lips slightly parted.

“There?” Chanyeol asked, pounding into him again. The way Kyungsoo reacted, nails digging hard into Chanyeol’s biceps, told him he had hit the right spot.

He felt Kyungsoo tighten around him, sucking him in, as he fucked against Kyungsoo’s prostate again and again. He could feel his release beginning to build, his abs going taut, the blood rushing.

“Wish you could come in me,” Kyungsoo grunted, face flushed a pretty pink, neck blooming pink and red in marks that fit the shape of Chanyeol’s mouth. “So big.”

Chanyeol whined, the words going straight to his dick. He snapped his hips again, not sure how long he could last. Kyungsoo felt like heaven, warm, and tight. He looked like heaven too, lips swollen, eyes heavily lidded, the muscles in his arms tensing while he gripped hard onto Chanyeol’s biceps.

“There,” Kyungsoo cried out, neck exposed, skin warm and flushed.

Kyungsoo hummed, then tensed, one deep thrust sending him tipping over the edge. He cried out, a guttural noise, face scrunched up, cum spurting onto his stomach and smearing on Chanyeol’s abdomen.

Chanyeol couldn’t take it; the feeling of Kyungsoo orgasming around him was too much. He lasted less than a minute before his own release crashed over him, his mouth contorting as he fucked in once, twice, hot cum shooting into the condom with a raspy moan.

His hips sputtered, grinding as he caught his breath. He leaned in, planting a soft kiss against Kyungsoo’s plush mouth before he dared to pull away. When he pulled out, Kyungsoo made a low noise, one that had Chanyeol asking, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Kyungsoo chuckled, shaking his head. His hair was plastered to his face, the sheen of sweat heavy on his body. Chanyeol thought he looked beautiful. “No. Did I hurt you?”

Chanyeol pushed the condom off, tying it. “No.” Hurt? The most hurtful thing Kyungsoo had done is make it so Chanyeol could probably never think of sex with anyone else again. Sex with Kyungsoo was amazing.

“Good.” Kyungsoo breathed. “We are doing it again soon.”

“We are?”

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for,” Kyungsoo said matter-of-factly, reaching for the towel on the nightstand.

Chanyeol couldn’t argue with his logic. “We do, don’t we.” He flopped back on the bed and reached out for Kyungsoo, having his hand batted away.

“Hold on, let me clean up.”

When Kyungsoo leaned in to wipe the cum off of Chanyeol’s stomach, Chanyeol pulled him into a hug, earning whines of protest from Kyungsoo.

“That’s gross.”

“Let me hold you,” Chanyeol murmured, pressing a kiss against Kyungsoo’s temple. “Please. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Fine,” Kyungsoo agreed, relaxing into Chanyeol’s arms.

Chanyeol felt content for the first time in a long time, lying on his bed, Do Kyungsoo in his arms. He felt like there was hope, that there was a future he would be happy with. There was a lot to do, a lot to learn about each other, but there was time.

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said in a quiet voice.

“Hmmm?” Chanyeol pressed a kiss to Kyungsoo’s temple, feeling like he was on cloud nine. Nothing could upset him now.

“Do you really have a drawer full of confetti? I read it in a magazine... And what about the ideal type thing? Was that... yunno…was that me?” Kyungsoo trailed off, leaving Chanyeol to silently regret that the one person who didn’t know or care about his career apparently had done his research.

Anonymity be damned.

“I’ll tell you if you let me eat your ass,” Chanyeol said, his tone flat. It was playing dirty, but he had a glimpse and now he wanted to taste.

“Fine.”

Chanyeol grinned, feeling like he won the lottery. “I used to have a drawer of it, but that was back at the dorm. One night Sehun and Jongdae got into it and-”

“Wait, they are in the group with you, right?” Kyungsoo asked, resting his hand on Chanyeol’s chest.

“Huh? Yeah. Anyways, so they had been drinking and….”

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came from Chanyeol's offer to buy a meal for a fan that receives a perfect score on their CSAT (he's been making the offer every year since 2015). And of course, I had to make it into a Chansoo AU because my two brain cells told me to. You can keep up with my limited brain cells on my twitter [here](https://twitter.com/London9Calling) /runs/


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